Dad Will Want His Dollar Back

(I am at home on the computer, when I hear my dad swearing in the bathroom. I ignore him until he does it again, this time louder and angrier. I get up to look. I am worried, since he only uses really bad language when he’s hurt.)

Me: “What on earth is going on?”

(My dad silently hands me a bottle of mouthwash with the child cap on. It’s mutilated, but still firmly shut. I manage to hold back my laughter long enough to open it for him.)

Dad: “I’ll give you fifty cents if you don’t tell anyone about this.”

Me: “Make it a dollar and I might consider it.”